


Smokeshow

by sephmeadowes



Category: Original Work
Genre: And the Beige White Guy Who Falls In Love With Her, F/M, High School, Latina Female Character, Mobsters, Weekend Adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26276041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sephmeadowes/pseuds/sephmeadowes
Summary: Brendan thought he was just lending money to a pretty girl.A short story with mobsters, a deadly poker game, and a very inconvenient attraction.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)





	Smokeshow

Amara Montez was _pretty_. Anybody with eyes would find those doe eyes and tanned legs that went on for days attractive if they were inclined to the fairer sex. With long, dark, mermaid hair and a smirk that never quite left her painted lips, she was aesthetically pleasing. The fact that she seemed perfectly aware of this didn’t seem to diminish it somehow.

Fortunately, Brendan was too sensible to let her know she was having any effect on him and turned away from the generous amount of thigh she was displaying. She was sprawled on the passenger seat of his car like some vivid daydream he wouldn’t admit to having and he needed a clear head for this transaction.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and asked, “Why do you need so much money?”

She blinked her long lashes and he resisted rolling his eyes. She seemed to get this wasn’t going to work on him but still replied glibly, “I thought you didn’t ask questions.”

“Normally, I don’t but that doesn’t mean I never do,” He turned back to her and kept his eyes firmly above her neck. “Did your dad cut you off?”

“My parents monitor all my cards. They would know right away if I took out such a large sum and would ask questions that I would rather not answer,” She narrowed her dark eyes at him. “Now, can you lend me the money or not?”

“What do you need the money for?”

She leaned closer to him and he could not help but glance down at the deep valley between her breasts. How she wasn’t freezing in her tank top and shorts was baffling to him and he resisted turning up the heating in his car.

“None of your business, Dubhan,” She pulled back, looking more annoyed. “Now, do you have the cash or not?”

He resisted rolling his eyes and reached over to open the glove compartment, the back of his hand brushing against her thighs before he pulled out a slim brown envelope. He offered it to her without a word. She practically snatched it from him and shoved it into her red handbag. He didn’t even pretend not to watch her as she got out of his car and didn’t glance back at him once.

* * *

Brendan resisted the urge to reach for his towel and hike it higher up his hips. Standing there dripping after his post-gym class shower, he pretended not to be perturbed by Amara Montez standing there fully clothed and looking unimpressed at his near nudity. Why she barged into the locker room instead of waiting for him outside like a decent person was beyond him. She had enough sense though to go in there when the place was empty aside from them so there was that.

He opened his locker and started to collect his clothes. One-handed, he dried his hair with the second towel around his neck while reaching for the spray of deodorant. “Usually, my office is in my car….”

She didn’t seem to want to play and just grunted, “I need a car.”

“What’s wrong with your car?”

He’d seen the flashy silver Aston Martin she drove around in, badly if he may add, narrowly scratching the gorgeous paint job and nearly giving people heart attacks. The sports car was a sharp contrast to their sturdy, old pickup trucks and secondhand Civics. Kind of a lot like her who was the pretty, rich New Yorker girl in their sleepy town. Admired but untouchable and she drove at a speed they couldn’t even think of going.

“I’m trying to avoid attention,” she replied. “And no one will ever try to steal your car.”

Annoyed, he demanded, “What’s wrong with my Chevy?”

His truck was older than him, previously belonging to a neighbor whose son had gone off to college out of state and didn’t want it anymore. It had seen better days but with the help of his dad and a few of his deputes they’d fixed it up as well as they could. It wasn’t a pretty car but it was reliable. And he wouldn’t take any insults thrown at it.

“Nothing. It’s perfectly ordinary,” she told him. “Which is good for a getaway car.”

“You make it sound like you’re gonna rob a bank.”

She shrugged. “Sort of.”

He stared at her for a second as she stared back, perfectly content to sit on one of the bench across from him as if him being nearly-naked around her was a regular occurrence. Maybe she was used to boys being naked around her or just didn’t care about nudity in general. He reached for his button down wanting some semblance of coverage and didn’t look at her as he shrugged it on. He tried not to jump when she stood up and stepped closer to him.

“I’m not gonna lend you my car.”

“Then come with me.” she bargained. “Think of it as insurance. You can drive me to New York and back, knowing I’ll be able to pay you back.”

“Chaffeuring isn’t usually what people go to me for.”

She reached past him, getting so much into his personal space he could smell her spicy perfume and started fixing the collar of his shirt.

“You can tell people it’s a date. Your folks would probably be more amiable to let you go the whole weekend if they knew you were spending it with me.”

“My parents wouldn’t let me disappear off with a girl for a whole weekend.”

“Tell them it’s gonna be with a bunch of friends at my parents’ beach house at the Hamptons.” She started helping him button up his shirt. “It’ll be just a bunch of teenagers having a sleepover, telling stories by the bonfire and having innocent fun with each other.”

He had a feeling that whatever sleepover Amara engaged it wasn’t _innocent_ by any means. Still, he said yes because he wasn’t leaving his precious Chevy with her reckless driving. His mom was out of town for a teaching seminar and his dad was working the whole weekend on a case which meant his dad was probably not gonna check his voicemail until Brendan got back from whatever wild scheme Amara Montez was dragging him into.

* * *

Saturday came and it had taken Brendan nearly twenty minutes to get to where Amara lived. The Montez family’s property was at the edge of town, far away from the neighbors that would never reach the height of wealth they had. The lesser mortals only able to pass by the enormous house before wondering what secrets the Montez family had to hide. Brendan tried not to feel like a lesser mortal as he drove up their driveway, being let in by the guard after he had to explain he was picking up Amara for their ‘date’.

The house – the mansion – was this bizarre Frankenstein monster of a house, combining modern and classic architecture as if unable to pick a time period to stick to. The result was marble columns, sleek glass windows, old Victorian lamps and a door that looked like it belonged inside a bank vault. He wasn’t sure what Wonderland he’d stumbled unto but there he was. He parked his car and was about to turn off the engine and get out when Amara ran outside the house, slamming the heavy front door behind her.

She made a beeline for his car, opened the passenger’s side door and got in before he was able to process anything.

“Let’s go,” she hastened. “Drive.”

He said nothing and started to turn the car back around and back to the gate. He got a glimpse at the rear view mirror of Amara’s father standing at the house and he drove faster.

“You could’ve taken the train, if you didn’t want to take your care.” he told her as soon as they was a few miles out of town. “I mean, if you didn’t want to get anyone’s attention.”

“I could’ve.” she agreed glibly then said nothing else. She reached into her bag, a plain backpack that was the furthest thing from her designer handbags and pulled out a pack of gum. “Want one?”

He shook his head and went back to focusing on the road. They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Amara reached over to turn on the radio. He smacked her hand away. She scowled at him.

“Driver picks the music,” he said, turning on the radio himself and switched the station to his favorite.

“Classical? Beethoven?” she scoffed. “Can you be more pretentious?”

“This is Bach,” he returned. “And you don’t have a leg to stand on. Your house is the size of a mall.”

She moved to switch the station and kept him away with one hand and he tried hard not to kill them as he drove and tried to get her away from the radio.

“I will not listen to Katy Perry in this car-”

“Fine! Could you watch the road-”

He quickly swerved the car as he almost hit a truck coming in the opposite direction. The driver game him the finger.

He turned to glare at Amara as she’d finally settled on a station playing classical rock.

“What?” she remarked. “Everyone likes the Beatles.”

* * *

It was nighttime by the time they arrived in Manhattan. He’d been in New York a handful of times due to field trips and visits to his Aunt Lorrie who lived in the Upper West Side. He still couldn’t help feel like a tourist as they drove downtown and straight past bridge crossing over to Brooklyn. Amara was looking out the window looking more serene than he’s ever seen her. He guessed this must feel like coming home to her.

He asked, “Do you miss it?”

She smiled. “All the time.”

She sounded wistful. He couldn’t imagine ever missing Schenectady. He’d been dreaming of leaving it as soon as he could remember. At the same time, he’d never known anything else.

“Why’d you move?”

“It wasn’t my choice,” She gave him a look. “You ask a lot of questions.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just curious.”

“Are you this curious with all of your clients?” She turned more fully to him. “Or am I just special?”

“Most of my clients don’t turn me into their chauffeurs.”

That was true. Most people that came to him wanted answers to difficult exams or booze. At times he got the odd request or two but Amara seemed to enjoy being mysterious and flirting with him and it was making him want to figure out what she was doing…or figure her out in general.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You ask a lot of questions,” He smiled at her pouting. “You always this curious with other boys or am I just special?”

They’d left his truck at a questionable parking lot but Amara assured him it would be fine and they had to walk to their next destination. She walked quickly for somebody in heels, weaving around the crowd of people expertly without even glancing back to see if he was following her. She made a quick turn in a cramped alley that led out to the back of a water damaged building. Wordlessly, she knocked on the back door and out came a big, burly black man who glared at them like they were annoying kids asking for candy.

He grunted, “What do you want?”

Amara just smiled. “Is Noel around?”

He squinted down at her. “Who’s asking?”

“Could you tell him Mara is here to see him?” She’d reached into her sturdy rucksack and handed a crisp dollar note into his big palm. “It’s urgent.”

He stepped aside and she sashayed in. Brendan moved to follow her but the man stopped him. “He with you?”

Amara didn’t say anything at first, looking like she was going to just continue her way inside and Brendan silently cursed at her. Finally, she replied, “He’s with me.”

It was strip joint. Of course, it was a strip joint unless restaurants in New York usually featured women undressing around poles while men threw singles at them. Of course, Amara wasn’t surprised or fazed at all and continued walking briskly throughout the darkened room and neon lights. Brendan tried not to look at the skin being presented to him and walked faster to catch up the to the dark-haired girl. She stopped and he nearly collided into her.

“Could you wait for a moment?” she asked him. “I need to talk to somebody alone. Stay close.”

He didn’t protest and took a seat that faced away from the stage and watched Amara walk up to a well-dressed man at the bar. He was still close enough to hear them talk and he tried to drown out the hideous music playing in the background.

She greeted the man who looked to be in his early twenties, “Noel.”

“Mara,” the man smiled, standing up but not moving closer to her. “It’s been a long time.”

She gave what could’ve passed for a smile and took the seat beside him. He  was handsome and tall with tanned skin. He could’ve been Amara’s older brother.

“Drink?” the man offered. “Non-alcoholic only, of course.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t mind me drinking before.”

“I didn’t mind a lot of things before.”

“I see,” she hesitated before continuing. “I need your help.”

“Is it money? You gonna elope with that boy?” Brendan stiffened as the man laughed and gave a mocking wave with his cocktail drink in hand. “Is it love, little Mara?”

“Yes and no. It’s about Emily.”

The smile dropped from Noel’s face and all emotion shuttered from his face. The change happened so quickly it was like he dropped a mask.

“What about Emily?”

“She’s sick. Needs money for the medical bills,” Mara answered, moving closer to him and touched him on the arm of his expensive suit. “You love her.”

“ _Loved_ ,” he countered with a scoff. “Not since-”

“I know what her father did but she didn’t do that.”

Noel practically growled. “Her father threw us to the wolves.”

But Mara didn’t let up. “ _Emily_ didn’t.”

Silence.

And finally.

“What do you want?”

The bite was gone from Noel’s voice again and he was the smiling man from before.

“I need to get to your uncle’s house. Tomorrow is his birthday, right?”

“And the yearly poker match?” Noel let out that too-charming laugh again. “Clever girl. You were always good at cards.”

“Please, Noel.”

Noel nodded and gestured at the bartender for another drink. “Fine. I’ll get you in.”

“Thank you-”

“But after this, Mara,” he told her. “I never want to see you again.”

* * *

They were on their way to a place in New Jersey. Noel was driving a beautifully preserved vintage car, sleek black, luxurious and without a backseat which left Brandon and Amara squeezed together on the passenger seat. Amara was practically sitting on his lap than anything else and he tried to think of how he got to this moment.

“Who is this anyway, Mara?” Noel finally spoke. “I thought you liked men, not boys.”

“Robert was hardly a man.” Amara replied with no small amount of bitterness.

“You still angry about him dumping you for that blonde sorority girl? Can you blame him, Mara?”

“Yes, I definitely can!”

Brendan turned away to spit out the mouthful of Amara’s hair that was getting in his mouth. He didn’t particularly like that they were talking about him like he wasn’t there but he was also distracted by his legs going numb.

“What’s your name?”

It took his a second to realize Noel was addressing him.

“Brendan.”

“You play sports, Brendan? You seem like a strong guy.”

“Baseball,” he replied. “And student council.”

Noel narrowed his eyes. “You seem a little too good for Mara here. She likes boys who are trouble.”

“He runs a black market at school. It’s all very daring. His dad’s the sheriff and doesn’t know a thing.” Mara cut in, explaining everything as if he was selling drugs to his peers and breaking laws left and right.

“Ah, exactly you’re type then. A young mob boss for the mob boss’ daughter,”

“Wait, what?” Brendan moved so his chin was resting on Amara’s shoulder and better able to actually talk now. “Mob boss’ daughter?”

“Yeah, Tio Tiago, her papa, was head of the Mexican mob in New York.” Noel explained as if it was a well-known fact. “Well, he was until Raoul Montero narced to the feds and got a lot of The Family behind bars.”

“And he’s Emily’s dad?” Noel and Amara both froze at the name. “I heard you talking at the club.”

“Yes, and now they’re on Witness Protection.” Amara confirmed. “I haven’t seen Emily in a year.”

This would have been around the time Amara and her family moved to Schenectady. Things were beginning to make sense now. Why such a wealthy family would move to a small town and leave their glitzy life in Manhattan behind and why Amara kept everyone at an arm’s length. And apparently they were going to the house of a mobster for a yearly poker game. Great.

The house of ‘Tio Cardo’ as Noel referred to his uncle looked from the outside like a warehouse. Amara explained that it did used to be a warehouse that The Family used for ‘import and export of things people wanted’. Brendan was sure people’s requests weren’t what he was providing a service for at his high school. He wasn’t even sure why Amara and Noel were being so free with their information. He could barely get Amara to tell him anything on the drive from Schenectady.

When he’d voiced this aloud, Noel had simply laughed and said, “Well, if you narc on us, Brendan, _you’ll be swimming with the fishes_.”

Noel had said it like a joke but Brendan had a feeling he was dead serious.

As they exited the car, Noel stopped and looked at him over, frowning at his t-shirt and jeans like it offended him.

“You look like a high school kid.”

“I _am_ a high school kid.”

Noel rolled his eyes and popped open the hood of his car and taking out a simple black blazer that he threw at Brendan. “Put that on. If anyone asks, you’re one of those rich Upper East Side preppies.”

Brendan begrudgingly put on the blazer and blinked as Amara took of her jacket to reveal that she was wearing a sparkly black cocktail dress. She threw her jacket unto the passenger seat of Noel’s car and turned back to Brendan.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Why am I here again?”

He’d been asking himself that question since they arrived at Brooklyn and he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t running away screaming yet.

“Because you’re my boyfriend.”

“No, I’m-” She cut him off with a quick peck on his mouth. Her lip gloss was sticky and tasted like strawberries. He wiped at the goop on his mouth. “Um…”

“Boyfriend,” she insisted, pulling his arm to wrap around her waist. “Just go with it.”

And into more of Mobster’s Wonderland they went.

* * *

There were people everywhere. Most of them speaking Spanish or a mix of Spanish and English with beautiful women draped over imposing-looking men. There were shots of tequila and glasses of whiskey being passed around. There was a haze of smoke as people smoked freely and he coughed as they went past the foyer and into a large room. At the center of it was a simple oak table that seated about twenty people. Wads of cash and poker chips and cards were on it and Amara and Noel made a beeline for the man seated at the head of the table, leaving him to stand by the doorway.

The man was stout and hairy, looking like an older Noel but thirty pounds heavier. That must be their ‘Tio Cardo’. He smiled and gave Noel and Amara hugs and seemed to be talking rather amiably before he stopped and looked at Amara in disbelief.

Noel murmured something to him and the man turned away. Amara put a hand on his arm and whispered something into his ear. He looked at her again before nodding and gestured to the one of the seats to the right. Amara smiled widely and took the seat, waving Brendan to finally come over.

A woman came over with a stool and placed it a little behind Amara so he could watch.

“New boyfriend, little Mara?” Tio Cardo asked. “Didn’t your papa say no white boys?”

Amara smiled sweetly. “He also said no more gambling but you know me, Tio.”

The older man let out a loud belly laugh. “Always the troublemaker, Mara.”

The poker game started shortly after. Amara had pulled out a wad of cash from her backpack and placed it on the table. Brendan was able to count the amount and realized she was using his money. How could he not see it? Why else would she borrow such a large sum of money? For a mobster’s poker game, of course!

The table was quiet as the cards were dealt. Amara peaked at her cards and said nothing, her face impassive. Poker was never really Brendan’s kind of game so he simply watched as people ‘folded’ or ‘bet’ with their cards. Amara stayed cool through the whole thing. Some part of the game seemed to be mostly about looking nonchalant and pretending like you had a great hand.

It seemed to go on forever with men leaving the table angry or defeated. Somehow, it was only Amara and Tio Cardo left. The latter was smoking a cigar and staring down the former like he was extremely amused.

“You play like your father,” he remarked. “Smart and careful.”

Amara gave a little smile. “I learned from the best.”

“All in, little Mara?”

Amara seemed to give it a quick thought before shaking her head.

“Okay, okay,” Tio Cardo grinned at her. “You still have much to learn, little one.”

He placed his cards on the table and Amara just blinked and quietly placed her cards on the table. _Royal flush._

Silence. Everyone in the room seemed to have frozen and couldn’t believe what just happened.

“No, fucking way!” one of the former players shouted. “You telling me this little _puta_ beat all of us! She cheated!”

Tio Cardo started shouting in Spanish and it wasn’t long before it was a total madhouse and guns were being taken out of blazers. Amara was using this time to gather as much cash as she could off table and into her backpack with Brendan’s help. Without looking back at the madness behind them, they ran for it, bag filled with money in hand.

Noel had disappeared in the middle of the poker game and was outside the house, waiting by his car.

Noel asked, “Do you have the money?”

“In the back pack,” Mara answered. “Do you have your keys?”

“Yeah,”

They froze as Noel pulled out, instead of his car keys, a gun. He clicked off the safety and pointed it straight at Amara.

“Sorry, Mara.”

“What the fuck, Noel?” Brendan shouted. “What are you doing?”

Brendan was torn between pulling Amara behind him to block her from the gun or grabbing her hand so they could make a run for it. His dad had given him basic self defense training but Noel could shoot him or Amara before he could even make a grab for it.

“Noel?” Amara gripped the back pack tighter, clutching it to her like a lifeline. “What’s going on?”

“You were right, Mara,” Noel kept the gun pointed at her. “I do love Emily.”

She let out a breath and closed her eyes, her shoulders drooping. “You sent the emails.”

Noel nodded. “Emily doesn’t know. She never would’ve agreed to this.”

“She’s not really sick,” Amara stated. “You used me because you needed the money.”

“We’ll be running for the rest of our lives. The Family will never let us be.” He explained. “That will require money. You understand.”

Noel moved closer and Brendan tried to pull Amara behind him to shield her but she pushed him away. She handed over the bag and the money they almost died for.

"Take care of her.”

“Always,” Noel smiled and started backing away to his car. “And I really hope I never you see you again, Mara.”

“Seriously, dude?” Brendan had to exclaim. “Fucking seriously?”

* * *

Noel, all around nice guy that he was, didn’t bother giving them a ride and they had to walk down the dark streets until they could find a place where they could call for a cab. Amara walked ahead of him, barefoot, holding her heels in hand. She looked cold, having left her jacket back in Noel’s car and probably gone forever. Brendan hadn’t said a word this whole time as he walked behind her and watched the stars that were finally bright enough to see through the smog.

“You okay?”

She scoffed.

“Sorry, stupid question.” he conceded. “Are you going to be okay?”

She didn’t answer immediately. He’d never seen her so subdued. Amara walked tall and proud and always seemed to make herself appear ten feet tall. It was only now as he was looking at her and saw how much shorter than him she actually was. She barely reached his shoulder.

“Do you think he would’ve shot you?”

Amara was quiet, as if contemplating if Noel would’ve really done such a thing. Brendan didn’t know all the details of her relationship with the man but she seemed to view him like an older brother. Maybe this kind of thing, betrayal and lies, were just normal to them. It was a world Brendan didn’t understand and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

She finally answered, “Noel always follows through.”

All of Amara’s stuff had been in the backpack which left him to pay for the cab that took them to an apartment complex in Brooklyn. It was old enough not to have an elevator and they headed up the stairs to the fifth floor. Amara knocked on the apartment in the middle of the hall and a middle aged woman opened the door in her pajamas. She let out a happy sound and hugged Amara, kissing her cheeks and brushing Amara’s hair with her hands like she was a child.

She seemed to speak only in Spanish and Amara answered back easily. They let them into her apartment and the small table as she went about the apartment kitchen, fixing a little snack for them of warm, spicy tomato soup and bread. Brendan finally remembered he hadn’t eaten since they went on their little road trip and dug in. There was something inherently warm about the woman’s little apartment as they ate and she continued talking in Spanish.

Brendan had a very rudimentary understanding of the language (he took German in school) but he seemed to get the gist of ‘no funny business’ as she gave them blankets and pillows to sleep on the couch. He was able to infer that he would get the floor while Amara got the couch which was fine by him.

“She seems nice,” Brendan remarked as the older woman finally went back to her room.

“She is. She’s my Tia Ruiza. My mom’s sister,” Amara told him, looking down at him from the couch. “She’s also my godmother.”

“So she’s family or _Family_?”

Somehow, he couldn’t picture the nice lady with the good soup in the mob. It felt too incongruous.

“No. It was my mama that married into the mob,” She pulled the blankets higher until they nearly reached her neck. “Tia Ruiza runs a restaurant.”

That made more sense. Amara turned away and seemed to be finally going to sleep. Brendan closed his eyes but his brain was still trying to process his insane day and could not seem to fall asleep. He started counting sheep. He was on Sheep number twenty-two when he heard Amara’s husky voice again.

“Thank you.”

He opened his eyes stared up at Amara, only able to see the back of her head. She was still turned away from him.

“For trying to protect me.”

“You didn’t seem to need it.”

“No, but I appreciate the effort.”

He smiled, knowing she couldn’t see it but he couldn’t stop himself. “No problem.”

He closed his eyes again and counted sheep. Somehow, he fell asleep and had a strange dream of sheep that played poker.

* * *

The drive home was quiet. They were both tired and Amara asleep twenty minutes into the journey. Amara leaned on the window of the passenger door and dreamed as New York passed them by. He drank the coffee they picked up on that little café in Brooklyn and kept his focus on the road. He got a few hours of sleep but he still felt bone tired.

They stopped over at a gas station half-way during the trip and ate some hotdogs at the convenience store. Amara was wearing the blazer Noel had lent him and it looked humongous on her, her hands barefly peeking through the sleeves. Neither of them felt like talking and were back on the road quickly after. It was nighttime when they finally arrived at Schenectady.

He went straight for her house, Amara waving at the guard as they let them into the gate of the Montez mansion. He parked the car in her driveway and finally turned to her.

“You gonna be okay?”

She looked at him. She’d washed off the last of her make-up at Tia Ruiza’s apartment and with Noel’s huge blazer on her she looked so young. He doesn’t think she’s ever looked more like her age since he met her. It made her appear more within reach, not just some perfect girl above everyone else.

“Am I gonna be okay after the Poker Match from Hell and Noel making off with my hard-won cash?” She quipped and smiled. “Of course, Dubhan. You act like you don’t know me.”

“I’ve known you for less than a week.”

She opened the passenger door and got out, not even turning back to him as she replied, “Semantics!”

* * *

Brendan began to feel more like himself on Monday and what the closest approximation of ‘normal’ was for him. It was back to people asking for booze and test results and not large amounts of money for daring adventures with mobsters. He’d just finished a deal with the football captain for providing a keg at his next house party when Amara opened the door of the passenger seat and let herself into his car.

He gaped at her before sighing. “What do you want, Mara?’

The nickname had slipped before he could stop himself. Everyone they met on Saturday night had called her ‘Mara’ which was apparently some childhood pet name and it was easier to say anyway.

She didn’t comment on her use of the nickname and just dug into her purse, the usual designer handbag, and pulled out an envelope and handed it to him. He checked and saw it was the amount he had lent her.

“How…?”

“I may have told my papa that on the drive back from the Hamptons, I damaged your car and you needed money to get it fixed,” she said. “Which means you can’t be seen driving this car for a while.”

He gave her a look. “And how will I be getting around without my car?”

“I’ll drive you, of course,” Amara smiled, as if supremely pleased. “It’s the least I could do to repay you for being my chauffer in New York.”

“I’ve seen you drive and I don’t think-”

She cut him off. “Or you could drive my car for me. Pick me up for school every day. Might be a bit much for the movies but what can we do?”

“The movies?”

She shrugged. “Or dinner.”

He smiled, finally getting it. He moved over and opened the glove compartment and placed the envelope of cash inside. He may have brushed her knee on the way back to his side of the car. “I heard you’re trouble.”

“I like trouble,” Amara smiled, all white teeth and bright eyes and moved closer to him. “And I have a feeling you do, too.”

He moved closer and he could see the freckles on her nose and cheeks. God, she was pretty. “What makes you say that?”

She rolled her eyes and finally kissed him. It wasn’t like the kiss on Saturday night outside the warehouse. Her lip gloss was still sticky and tasted like strawberries but it fit in Schenectady and in his car in the school parking lot. He kissed her back and learned how she tasted and what she liked. Brendan had always been a very fast learner.


End file.
